June 22, 2007:
FOUR TRAIN, heading downtown to Bleecker to catch the F train to Cobble Hill for the MoCCA Art Festival kick off party at the Rocketship comic book store.
The train slows to a stop at 59th street and I hear birds tweet from the Public Relations representative’s ear phones next to me.
My iPod is dying a slow death so the only music I hear is the tune of the wheels clanging through the break stops, and the light whir of the wind current between the subway car and the narrow subway tunnels.
It is quite silent in this car. A extremely beautiful black girl across the isle from me adorned with a sea green shopping bag from Marciano taps her sliver ballet slippers to the beat of the music I wish I could hear.
Transfer at 14 for the six to get Bleecker’s Fuck you train that always manages to leave just as you are going down the stairs.
8:32pm. I’ll be at Rocketship fashionably late. You can bet on David Press being like clock work—always an hour late to any social engagement. Even if it’s to meet a friend out for a drink. B, D and V trains pass while I wait for the F-You train and that’s why it’s the Fuck You Train because fuck you for being too cool to show up on it’s schedule.
The conversation with TJB really calmed me down down. My scared nerves of today and this past week with my new job and the utter ridiculousness of the people I work with really put me on the angry edge and had unnerved me. I was in desperate need of something to unwind this week. To paraphrase: let the people who think they are in the position to exercise their authority in this dickish manner, because honestly you’re smarter than them, if they have to act in that manner then they are exposing a deep deep character flaw. Allow them to have their flaw, to exercise it, because they have to and that is a sign of a lack of maturity. The sign of maturity is to direct that angry energy that I would have expelled towards him in calling him out for what he is (a giant wad of herpes infected cum), and directing it towards something that goes towards the advancement of yourself. Which is exactly what I’m doing right now—writing about it.
June 23, 2007:
Waiting for the subway again, seven-fifteen am. Arg. No matter whether you were out late the night before being up this early on a Saturday is unnatural. Rocketship was cool. I purchased the latest Captain America, Rick Spears and Rob G’s first issue of Repo, Ex Machina, The Spirit #7 and the Stars and S.T.R.I.P.E trade paperback. The latter was Geoff Johns first comics work and boy does it bring back some memories of high school favorite comics like Impulse and Superboy. I had some beers with Ken and Derrick and Jeremy of MoCCA and talked about how fired up I am for my first Art Fest. I wonder aloud if that girl who always serves the local lager would show up to the art fest for me to flirt with. They say that I’ll probably never even see her. I’m looking forward to the parties, meeting new people and the great times we’re going to have.
Back to the current state, I text Jeremy to say I’m going to be ten minutes late, yet again another attraction to being fashionably late but this time rather than being cool-just being irresponsible. My father always talks about being late for work being as low as you can be. I don’t ever remember what exactly it is that he says, but it always makes me feel guilty about it. And somehow God allows me to be nothing more than five minutes late. To which Jeremy hasn’t even arrived yet, wiping away the feeling of guilt like a wet blanket to a dirty sink.
I want to jump ahead for a moment and reflect on something that began to irk me tonight night after leaving Top Shelf’s 10th Anniversary Party. I wonder around there like a lost soul, like last night at Rocketship; all I see are people talking with their friends, their trade, their day jobs and here I am someone no one really knows but a few and welcomed by them. A fanboy, I make up my mind tonight. While I write this I take a sip of my tea and decide I’ve given them this power. This ability to show who I am, mildly, I’m someone who loves their work—a fanboy—and can’t not be without it. Which is true, and I’m proud to admit that and truly love everything about this industry. But this entire scene screams to me “We mildly know who you are but then again you’re not amongst my friends, my peers, my collaborators; you’re a hanger’s on, a band-aid, a groupie.” Even with people who are on the cuff, doing what I did in college and high school—journalism look at me like I’m a retard.
Like TJB said last night: I gave them that authority, to be like, “oh hey, you’re cool and nice enough but not someone I’d be able to work with.” I gave them this ability by forking over my money, to support them, to like them, to praise them rather than saying: this is what I want and I want to be part of it rather than a someone looking in from the outside. The negative energy I’m creating is finally pushing me over the top as I’m among people who don’t really see me as being one of their peers, but rather a fan. I’ve given them this, but you should use that energy—their perception that is not your own to push you. And I haven’t been doing enough. That’s what tonight taught me. I finally realized this from a girl who I said earlier in the day I recognized from somewhere but couldn’t place where. It wasn’t until later, at the party, did I realize that girl was someone who worked behind the counter at Midtown Comics. To supplement that she worked freelance for Virgin Comics and now works for them full time and is senior writer at the very fine publication Comic Foundry. She’s taken an active part and I’ve been saying I’ve been doing this all the past year, but all I’ve been doing is circling the wagons, circling, circling and now I’ve made myself dizzy with my want rather than actually doing anything. I try digging myself in with a story that they probably already thought of and had and made a complete ass of myself. When I walked away, I’m sure they were saying: who was that crazy guy? But it could be just the normal me over analyzing the situation towards the negative. Regardless, I got a card out of it and who knows positive things come out of situations like this. See what tomorrow brings.
